LOSING THE BOOMBAH

I remember loving myself sick Step Reeboking my way around the Gold Coast in a g-stringed unitard back in the early 90’s.  I would ride my bike to the gym before school, come home, eat a can of peas, ride to school and go back to the gym again at night.  Then I’d come home and eat a can of corn.  Was I thin?  Fucking A.  Did I know it? Nope.  Was I little insane at that point?  More than likely.

See on the flipside of all that, I would gorge myself on Mum’s lasagne and rocket my way through a packet of Macadamia Nut Biscuits for no good reason.  And no, I didn’t then go acquaint myself with the porcelain bowl in the bathroom.  To be honest it just never crossed my mind.  Clearly I preferred to self loathe and screw up my metabolism instead. 

It took years for my body to find its natural adjustment.   To get to the body shape I was meant to have but had completely screwed with.  I put that down to finding a partner I was comfortable with.  Who genuinely loved me for me. Who didn’t have friends who were arseholes and would make comments about my unusually large arse.

I vividly remember going to a dinner with my then boyfriends, Boss.  He was an A-grade arsehole.  A tiler who forgot he was meant to show even a hint of decorum around women.  He actually grabbed my arse and said in front of about 15 people, “Jesus girl, might be time to lay off the hot chips”.  I was 17 and I looked like this: 

Looking back, I can pinpoint that moment as the one where I started to go a little bit nuts.

I didn’t become anorexic.  I was far too ill disciplined for that.  I just fluctuated.  A lot.  And again, meeting Phil, loving him, loving life and not obsessing, pretty much just gave me something else to do with my time.

I’ve had three babies since then and ironically enough, was probably at my skinniest after number 3.  Breastfeeding might feel like you are slicing your nipples apart to start with, but man it works wonders at stripping the weight.

But now, well now I’m spreading left, right and centre and it’s not pretty.  Often it’s when I spot myself in an unexpected mirror and think “Who the fuck is that?” and then realise, oh shit, it’s me, that it starts to hit home.    Or when someone posts a photo on facebook and I get an unadulterated, unedited body shot of myself that I realise I ain't 21 anymore.... 

Thankfully I’m a little more mature these days and know there is a way to change this and it does not involve starving or Reebok sliding myself to death.

Eating healthily and exercising.  Or put another way, move more, eat less.   Absolute rocket science, I know, but sometimes I have a Mensa moment or two.
 

But like all good intentions, mine are often thrown off course due to a lack of self-discipline and an adoration for thick buttered toast.

So, first of all is to put it out there.  Done. Secondly, get support.  That’s where these guys come in: Annie & Di at The Boombah Club.  It's simply an on-line blog where anyone who’s keen can join.  There are tips, encouragement and the ability to access other people’s experiences.  

So here are my intentions:

• To not drink during the week.  A given for a lot of people, but I've been McLovin my "come home from work beer" a bit too much.
   
• Exercise (run/walk/zumba/Wii fit) 3 times a week
   
• Eat good food. 
   
• Drop a dress size or two.  Preferably the latter.
   
•  Be healthy and live to a ripe old age.  Preferably one where my children have to change my lady nappies once or twice as payback.

Wish me luck. Or at least wish me some willpower.